


Modern Pharmaceuticals

by MissJeeves



Series: Modern Pharmaceuticals [1]
Category: Justified
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Light Bondage, M/M, Minor Violence, Multi, Non Consensual, Oral Sex, Pegging, Rape, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-06
Updated: 2012-03-06
Packaged: 2017-11-01 14:10:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissJeeves/pseuds/MissJeeves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boyd drugs, kidnaps, and ties Raylan to a bed so he can make sweet, sweet love to him. Ava joins in. Or, Raylan is raped by two psychotic Crowders. Matter of perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Modern Pharmaceuticals

Raylan Givens wakes up naked, with a headache and an unearthly awful taste in his mouth. He drank some, but not that much, and there’s no reason he should feel this bad. No reason he should be handcuffed to the bed, either, which is what he discovers when he tries to move his arms.

His mind is still sluggish – _drugged_ , not just drunk – but he figures out pretty quickly that the ugly drab walls of the room are not the ugly drab walls of his hotel room. Raylan doesn’t know where he is, or how he got here, or who used his own cuffs to secure him to an alarmingly strong headboard.

He finds out how strong when he wrenches it as hard as he can, and only hurts his wrists.

Raylan’s on his belly, which makes him feel extra vulnerable. His feet aren’t bound, but kicking doesn’t do anything but dislodge the sheet thrown over him.

Raylan rattles the bed a couple times, before finally giving up and yelling out. He’s pretty sure whoever hears him is not actually going to help him.

A door he can’t see from his position swings open after his second shout. Raylan tenses, strains his neck trying to see who it is.

“Raylan,” Boyd Crowder says, solicitous as hell. “How are you, this morning?”

It says something that Raylan’s instantly more annoyed than anything else. And not all that surprised, either.

“Boyd,” he says, after a beat. “What the hell?”

Boyd ambles closer to the bed. “You should be more careful when you drink, Raylan,” he says. “Who knows what kind of soul would have gotten a hold of you without my intervention.”

“No soul,” Raylan retorts, though arguing with Boyd right now isn’t smart and he knows it.

“You should keep a closer eye on your glass,” Boyd continues. “Modern pharmaceuticals can be used for such unpleasant purposes.”

“I am not the typical target for roofies,” Raylan tells him. “I thought you disdained ‘modern pharmaceuticals,’ anyway, Boyd.”

“I could see no other means,” Boyd says. He moves closer to the bed, towards Raylan’s head. The mattress dips as he sits near Raylan’s shoulder.

“You mean you knew you’d lose in a fight.”

“I’ve been shot once by you,” Boyd says, laughing lowly. “Much simpler to come to the aid of my poor, ill friend. Bartender even helped pour you into the car.”

Raylan marks this down to mean someone knows he was last seen with Boyd, and eventually Art will find that person.

“Where are we?” Raylan asks. He doesn’t ask why he’s naked.

“Little cabin I found recently,” Boyd says. “Tenants took off after their place of business was engulfed in flames.”

“Ah.”

Boyd’s hand touches Raylan’s shoulder, started drawing the sheet down his naked back. “Quiet, isolated place. Perfect setting for a romantic rendezvous, if you don’t mind the poor housekeeping efforts.” He pats Raylan, fingertips stroking down the hollow of his spine.

Raylan barks out a laugh. “Romantic?” He twists sideways as best he can, wishing he could flip over completely. “And I thought you’d already lost your damn mind.”

“I am of sound mind.” Boyd is still touching his skin, moving the sheet down with casual, but unhindered progress. “I’ve thought this over, thoroughly, Raylan.”

“Have you?”

“I have. You and I, Raylan, been through so much. Our blood has intertwined…” Boyd trails off as the sheet slips over Raylan’s ass.

“You’re not make any damn sense,” Raylan tells him, tensing as Boyd starts – there’s no other word for it – _caressing_ his ass.

“I’m tired of the violence,” Boyd says, still talking like some psychotic poet. “It wears on me, Raylan. The world needs love, now. Love and union.”

“Maybe,” Raylan says, sharply. “The world does. _We_ do not.”

“I want to be part of the world,” Boyd says. He rises from the bed, but it’s only to grab a pillow and somehow manage to shove it under Raylan’s hips.

Raylan’s neck is starting to hurt from straining to look to the side, but he can hear a belt sliding through loops, followed by Boyd’s zipper, then his jeans hitting the floor.

“Boyd,” he says.

Boyd’s shirt flutters to the floor.

“I won’t hurt you, Raylan. It’s not like that.”

“Not going to be any of that,” Raylan tells him, commandingly.

Naked, Boyd is suddenly straddling Raylan’s waist. He’s heavy, and also in a position where Raylan can’t kick him. He doesn’t answer, hot breath against the back of Raylan’s neck. Then his wet mouth, and goddamn, he’s giving Raylan a hickey.

“Doesn’t Leviticus say something about this,” Raylan growls into the pillow. It’s worth a shot as a distraction.

 “Bible don’t say anything about Raylan Givens and Boyd Crowder of Harlan,” Boyd says, and goes back to licking the hot patch of skin.

“It says don’t do it,” Raylan tells him, and tries to buck upwards, crash his skull into Boyd’s face. He doesn’t have the leverage and Boyd easily avoids the blow. He moves downwards, kissing across Raylan’s shoulder blades. His erection is against Raylan’s side, hot and dripping.

“You don’t know what is says,” Boyd laughs. “You’re quoting what you’ve heard on the TV.”

Raylan’s only ever had his doctor’s fingers up his ass, and her hands are smaller and gentler than Boyd’s. Cracked as he is, Boyd’s found lubricant somewhere and is studiously applying it to Raylan’s asshole. It’s cold, dripping down between Raylan’s thighs, and smells like fake strawberries.

“Stop clenching,” Boyd says, and swats him with the hand he isn’t trying to drive up Raylan’s ass.

“You stop,” Raylan retorts, and Boyd swats him again.

The spanking sends terrible, misguided signals straight to Raylan’s cock, trapped as it is between his body and the pillow used to angle his hips. Boyd stops fingering him for a second, chuckles.

“Why am I not surprised?” he says, and slaps Raylan’s ass hard enough to seriously sting.

Boyd’s insane, but he’s not stupid or brutal. Raylan expected spit and pain, but Boyd is patiently stretching him. And actively trying to arouse him. He hasn’t reached for Raylan’s cock, but he’s figured out Raylan likes having his ass slapped. Boyd is trying to make it…nice.

Raylan’s ass aches. It burns, even with the lube. He already feels full and he doesn’t think Boyd has more than two fingers inside.  Raylan casts a glance sideways, trying to get a glimpse of Boyd’s dick. It felt large when Boyd had pressed it against him. He just wants to know what he’s in for.

Boyd adds a third finger, right when Raylan gets an eyeful. The sound he makes is from the sensation, not the size he sees. Boyd thinks otherwise, and chuckles.

“The lord blesses us all in different ways,” he says, spreading his fingers inside. Raylan has to stifle his response, which is something obnoxious about Boyd’s total lack of intellectual blessings, for the record.

Boyd’s cock has gone to half-mast. Raylan catches arm movement, realizes Boyd’s pumping himself back up. He hears liquid squelch, understands that Boyd is coating himself. His other hand is still _inside_ Raylan.

“Boyd,” he says, trying not sound desperate.

“Shhh,” Boyd says, politely.  His slicked hand touches Raylan’s ass, pressing the plastic spout between his cheeks. The lube feels cold and Raylan can’t help but jerk away, which makes it drip down. It’s all over his thighs and his ballsack. Boyd tosses the lube away, but it lands on the bed, still within reach.

Boyd drapes himself over Raylan, still stretching him inside. He reaches around and grabs Raylan’s dick. Raylan can’t evade his hand and moving his hips only makes him painfully conscious of Boyd’s other hand.

“Don’t,” Raylan says, as Boyd strokes him. “Just don’t.” He can’t believe he’s hard, but he is.

Boyd slowly pulls his fingers out, leaving Raylan feeling abruptly and uncomfortably open and stretched. He immediately feels the hot, blunt head of Boyd’s dick against his hole. Boyd is bigger than three fingers, hotter and firmer. It hurts more and Raylan can’t help but try to move forward to get away. Boyd stops stroking his cock and just holds his hips still, as he pushes inside.

And just like that, he’s ballsdeep inside. Raylan tries as hard as he can not to cry out, hears a little sound escape his throat, anyway. Boyd holds still, one hand back on Raylan’s cock, the other now clutching his shoulder.

“See?” he says. Raylan doesn’t see anything but his own involuntarily stinging tears and the cheap headboard.

Boyd could hurt him, now, but he doesn’t. He just waits, jerking Raylan back to fullness. He reaches around to tease his nipples, kisses the back of his neck, gives him another hickey. Boyd lovingly licks Raylan’s left ear, then laughs when Raylan’s cock twitches in appreciation. Raylan forgets to headbutt him, and when he remembers, Boyd has already pulled back.

The first few thrusts are short and shallow, achey and strange.

Boyd’s hand is on Raylan’s shoulder like he’s holding invisible reins. Raylan has the distinct impression he’s being coddled. The more he flinches and tenses, the gentler Boyd becomes. It doesn’t make it any better. Raylan’s not an idiot.  Boyd hasn’t pointed out that clenching’s only hurting himself. So, forcibly, Raylan relaxes.

In response, Boyd _pets_ him, running a hand gently through his hair. Boyd also immediately speeds up. And suddenly the thrusts are deeper and sharper and longer.

Raylan feels heady. The sensation has changed from uncomfortable and dully painful to intense and overwhelming. Some of it feels good, too, and Boyd is stroking his cock faster. Raylan drops his head into the pillow, feels the sweat on his forehead stick to the cotton case.

Boyd is pounding him now, every motion driving Raylan’s hips forward. When Raylan lifts his head for a moment, he realizes the bedframe is moving. His head is heavy, so he puts it back down. Orgasm is building in his spine and his hips snap forward reflexively.

Boyd stops stroking his cock.

It takes a second for Raylan to parse the situation, and then he realizes Boyd is now squeezing the base of his dick. The orgasmic haze retreats enough that the sounds of Boyd thrusting into his body, the weight and heat against his back, and the feeling of Boyd _inside_ him all come back to the forefront.

“Stay a while,” Boyd says, breathily into his ear.

Raylan loses it. He bucks. He kicks wildly, striking nothing. His hands are cuffed so he can neither grab the headboard or get any leverage to move. Boyd’s weight holds his body down and the pillows hold his hips up. Raylan can’t move in any direction and it is _infuriating._

All he can do is throw himself backwards, which Boyd _likes_ , because he stops laughing at Raylan’s completely ineffectual struggles and lets out a appreciative moan. Raylan hates him.

Boyd goes back to Raylan’s dick and Raylan tries to roll away. It’s the first motion that has had any success, except that Boyd immediately rolls him back. And then Boyd manages to grab a fistful of hair near the top of Raylan’s head. He pulls, and it _stings._ It hurts more than anything else has and makes Raylan’s eyes tear up and water uncontrollably.

Raylan howls, spits curses at Boyd, who doesn’t let go.

Boyd put his other hand back on Raylan’s dick, chuckles when he finds the erection hasn’t flagged.

“You fight like a girl,” Raylan wheezes.

Boyd laughs again, something he is doing entirely too much of. He snaps his hips forward into Raylan, pointedly. “You want to discuss gender roles right now?”

“I want to-” Raylan starts, and Boyd shoves his face into the pillow. He keeps hold of Raylan’s hair, but isn’t pulling as hard.

“And we were getting along so well,” Boyd says. Raylan shakes his head emphatically, even though it pulls his hair.

Boyd starts jerking Raylan again, getting him close.

“I still prefer this,” Boyd tells him, turning Raylan’s face out of the pillow, “to our normal interactions. And to you shooting me in the chest.”

Orgasm slices through Raylan then, shooting involuntarily into Boyd’s grip. Half of it is familiar release; the other half is clamping down on Boyd’s thick, invading cock.

The world recedes. Raylan goes limp and Boyd feels impossibly heavy on top of him. He’s vaguely conscious of Boyd’s thrusts becoming short and erratically sharp. The next sensation is the strange, novel warmth of Boyd coming inside him.

Boyd takes his time withdrawing. He traces his fingers down Raylan’s spine and sighs languidly. Raylan just lies there and lets him. Finally, Boyd pulls out, another new, strange feeling. More discomfort than pain. A sore hollowness sets in, immediately. Boyd touches him, pressing fingers against the sensitive hole.

“Boyd,” Raylan snarls, but he’s too tired to do it very loudly.

And then Boyd pinches his ass, a new sharp pain closer to his thigh. Raylan peers over his shoulder, sees Boyd putting the cap back on a syringe he must have had under the bed.

“What the hell was that?” Raylan demands.

“Manners,” Boyd answers.

His weight lifts off of the bed and Raylan watches him walk naked to another door, which turns out to be the bathroom. He tries once more to break the head board, only succeeds in ripping the skin open under the cuffs on one hand. He can already tell that Boyd’s “manners” are a tranquilizer. It’s in full effect by the time Boyd comes back, leaving Raylan a disoriented and helpless puddle.

Boyd actually takes the handcuffs off. A few completely misaimed punches later, and after Raylan has sprawled on the floor twice while trying to get off the bed, he gives up. Boyd offers him an empty soda bottle to piss in. Raylan wants to go the bathroom. He wants a shower and to get rid of all traces of Boyd. He wants to grab a razor or a bottle of bleach to use as a weapon, too. He’s drugged enough to know he probably can’t manage any of that.

“We’re not done,” Boyd says, ominously. “Pee in the bottle or crawl to the john, your choice.”

Raylan takes the latter option and wakes up on the dirty floor, he doesn’t know how much later.  Boyd hauls him back up and holds him in place while he pisses in the goddamn bottle. Boyd takes it distastefully. He lets go of Raylan and shoves lightly, all that’s required to send him stumbling back on to the bed.

Boyd’s back before Raylan realizes, and the handcuffs are back out. Raylan stiffens. He might be drugged up, but he’s not going to cooperate. Boyd stands there for a moment, as if assessing the situation.

“Boyd,” Raylan says. “Enough.” He’s too woozy to fight and they both know it.

For some reason, Boyd actually backs off. He gets a first aid kit from the bathroom and quietly bandages Raylan’s wrist, while Raylan tries to stay awake. He can’t, of course, and the next time he wakes up, his arms are behind his back. But he’s not anchored to the bed anymore, which is progress.

Boyd helps him recline on the bed on his side so his arms aren’t crushed. Raylan immediately falls asleep, the tranquilizer a giant fuzzy weight on his mind.

Sometime later, Boyd shakes him awake.

“Now, Raylan, I need to ask you something and I want you to answer honestly.”

“I am going to shoot you again,” Raylan answers, against his better judgment. “Soon.”

Boyd shakes his head. He raises his hand, holding something black and metal Raylan doesn’t recognize. “Are you going to act civilized or do I need this?”

“Probably not,” Raylan says, to the first part. “What is that?”

“It holds a person’s legs apart,” Boyd replies, voice level and sincere. “I got it at the pervert store. Now, do you need it or not?”

Raylan stares at him, speechless. 

“I will help you,” Boyd continues, earnestly. “And you will be _much more comfortable_ without that contraption. But you should be honest on if you’re going to kick or…”

“I am going to kick,” Raylan says. “Probably in your face.”

“Not me,” Boyd answers, bafflingly. “I know that.”

“Who the hell do you have in mind?” Raylan demands.

“A mutual friend,” Boyd says. “Don’t look so offended, Raylan. You’ve already been intimate with her.”

“Ava,” Raylan says, disbelieving. “That’s what this is about? _Ava?_ ”

Boyd swings the spreader. “Answer me first, Raylan. Would you harm a woman? A woman you shared your bed with before? Do you really have to wear these shameful things?”

Raylan just stares at him.

“And I want it remembered that no one has ever asked me if I do not wish to wear leg manacles,” Boyd says to the room.

“I don’t get it,” Raylan says, finally.

Boyd sits on the bed next to him, reaches out and runs an appreciative hand down Raylan’s flank.

“You fucked her,” he says. “I fucked you. It’s her turn.”

“You don’t share well with others,” Raylan reminds him. “I touch her, you’re going to kill me.”

“You touch her in a way she objects to, such as the aforementioned kick to the face, that’s the probable outcome,” Boyd says. “I know you have narcotics clouding your mind, but listen to the word order. She’s going to fuck you.”

And then he reaches for Raylan’s ass again, fingers groping his cheeks apart. Raylan rolls away, and this time Boyd let him.

“You’re both out of your fucking minds,” Raylan says, staring at the ceiling.

“Do you want the pervert spreader?” Boyd repeats his question. “Being fully informed of what will happen if you act out in violence.”

~

Raylan declines the spreader. Of course he does. Boyd shoots him with a little more juice, for everyone’s sake. Even though Raylan bitches about it loudly ‘til the chemicals hit him. But it’s much easier to recuff him to headboard. Back to it this time, hands above his head and locked to the top of the railing.  Raylan really can’t be trusted to stay where they leave him. He puts the spreader just over the side of the bed, so he can grab it if Raylan can’t behave. He doesn’t want to use it. Boyd can help Raylan spread his legs for Ava.

The position change bothers Raylan, or maybe it’s the drugs. He looks pale and shaky, fighting to stay conscious. He doesn’t resist when Boyd positions pillows under him again, raising his hips and opening his legs. He looks more vulnerable than before, cock and balls hanging open to the room, stretched asshole just below.

Ava arrives as scheduled. Boyd  had wanted some alone time with Raylan. He’d also worried about dealing with even more macho posturing from Raylan if she’d been with them. Raylan’s head has lolled down, but Boyd sees his eyes flutter open when she enters. He stays silent and ignores her. Boyd gets off the bed, greets Ava with a kiss.

“How did it go?” she asks, looking hungrily at Raylan.

“We made sweet, sweet love,” Boyd tells her.

Raylan stops feigning unconsciousness and harrumphs, loudly.

“Oh?” Ava says.

“He did call me some nasty names,” Boyd allows. “Issues with intimacy, I think.”

“I’m familiar,” she says. “My turn, now?”

“All yours,” Boyd says, and kisses her again, just because.

Ava opens her purse, pulls out a giant black dildo, still in its packaging.

“I got a big dick,” she announces, loud enough that Raylan can hear. Boyd whistles, takes the package from her and compares it to himself. Longer and thicker. Raylan doesn’t look up. If anything, his head dips lower.

“If I didn’t know better,” Boyd says, “I’d believe you were overcompensating for something.”

Ava reaches into her purse, pulls out something else. It’s a stun gun, and she trades Boyd the dildo for it.

“He’s high,” Boyd assures her. “And cuffed. And recently fucked hard.”

“He’s Raylan,” Ava says. “I’m gonna get changed. Put my dick on,” she adds for Raylan’s benefit.

Ava leaves the room to get undressed, unfortunately, because Boyd would have liked to watch. He’s already getting hard again, just thinking about her strapping that monster on. Boyd ambles back to Raylan, sets on the side of the bed so Raylan can see both his dick and the stun gun.

“Ava seems to be harboring some resentment towards you,” he tells Raylan, who doesn’t answer but lets out a shuddering breath. “This may hurt a little.”

“Or a lot,” Ava corrects, back in the room.  She’s naked and stunning, right down to the big black dick in a purple harness over her hips. “Hello, Raylan.”

Raylan sneaks a glance at her, without raising his head. “Ava,” he says, tightly. Too his credit, he doesn’t let his legs fall shut.

“I opened him for you,” Boyd says, reaching down and drawing Raylan’s left knee away from his body. He feels the muscles coiled tensely under his fingers. “See.”

Ava smiles like a shark. “I do.”

She joins them on the bed, and Boyd throws an arm over Raylan’s chest, nuzzling his head into the side of Raylan’s face. “Remember what I said about kicking,” he whispers. He tosses the stun gun in the air and catches it.

Raylan behaves, for now. Ava settles between his knees, attention on the prize before her.

“He doesn’t seem interested,” she observes, looking at Raylan’s flaccid cock.

“He’s _not_ ,” Raylan growls out.

Boyd hands her the strawberry lube from the other side of the bed. “He’ll come around,” he says, than laughs at the pun. Except Raylan doesn’t, not when Ava masturbates him and not when she takes him into her mouth. Annoyed, she sits back and glares at Boyd.

Helpless, Boyd gives Raylan’s left nipple a harsh pinch. “Listen to the lady,” he orders.

Raylan flinches, but even though he likes pain, his dick stays soft. “How do you –” he says, then cuts himself off. “I am not sixteen anymore,” he snaps. “One and I’m done.”

Ava raises an eyebrow, then shrugs. “I’ll get the pills,” she says, and hops off the bed.

“Pills?” Raylan asks. He glares at Boyd.

“Get it up on your own,” Boyd says. “Or modern pharmaceuticals will do it for you.”

“I liked you better when you were blowing up meth labs,” Raylan mutters.

“Maybe I’ll blow something later,” Boyd says, “if you’re good.”

Raylan scowls some more. But he’s cooperative when Ava returns with the blue pills and the bottle of water. Boyd drops one on his tongue, then tilts the water bottle against his lips. Raylan doesn’t want the medicine, but he wants the water and he drinks deeply until Boyd takes the bottle away.

“Open up,” Boyd orders. Raylan glares some more before obeying.

It looks like he swallowed, but Boyd decides to check more thoroughly. He grabs Raylan by the jaw and kisses him deeply, one hand warningly on his throat. He searches Raylan’s mouth with his tongue, sweeping it over his gums and deeper.

Raylan doesn’t bite him, which he considers a success.

“It takes thirty minutes to work,” Ava says, when he pulls back.

Boyd, for his part, is fully erect again. “I think we can find a way to pass the time,” he says, and reaches for her.

They have sex next to Raylan, who stays still and silent the entire time. Ava’s dick rubs against Boyd’s belly as he fucks her, hard and unyielding while she’s so soft. He feels a little sorry for Raylan, but not really.

When they’re done, Raylan is back to pretending to sleep, or maybe knocked out by the tranquilizer. His knees have drifted shut.

Boyd rectifies that, yanking him back into position. He shoves Raylan up a little, wedges himself half underneath him. Like this he can pull at least one of Raylan’s legs up and open. Raylan grumbles, but doesn’t fight. Boyd puts the stun gun on the other pillow, where they both can see it.

 Ava cleans herself up, then climbs back where she was between Raylan’s knees. The pill worked and Raylan plumps to fullness almost immediately under her hands. Boyd can see his face like this, up close. He likes watching the expressions tear across it, anger, arousal, and futility.

Ava shoves Raylan’s legs wider. Boyd helps by grabbing the nearest thigh and lifting. Raylan is completely limp and very heavy, until Boyd smacks him in the face. “Help,” he orders, without patience.

“I thought you made sweet love,” Ava says, as Raylan turns his face back from the slap, rage in his eyes. But he also helps Boyd lift his leg up and out.

“Love tap,” Boyd says, even though he can feel the anger thrumming through Raylan.

“Mmm,” Ava says. “His dick likes it.”

She lifts Raylan’s other leg up over her shoulder, watching for signs of violence.

Then her hand disappears between Raylan’s legs and Raylan immediately tenses.

“I left him lubed up for you,” Boyd murmurs.

“Full of your spunk?” Ava asks, slyly.

Listening to her talk like this, watching her finger Raylan, all while pressed up against the man is a lot to take. He’s getting hard again, like he _is_ sixteen. Raylan feels the erection against his hip and tries to subtly shift away. But at the same time, Ava is driving fingers inside him and he can’t get away from them both. Boyd pulls on Raylan’s thigh some more and leans forward so he can watch more closely.

“That’s a big dick,” he reminds her. Raylan kind of shudders at that, but Ava just smiles.

“I know.” She’s jerking Raylan rhythmically with one hand, the other already has three fingers up him. The strawberry lube scent is heavy in the air, coating her hand and Raylan’s pelvis. “Think he can take my fist?” she asks, casually, when her pinky disappears inside him.

“No,” Raylan barks. He’s loud, but he doesn’t drop his legs or even move very much.

“Wasn’t asking you,” Ava says, pointedly.

“I think he can,” Boyd answers, while Raylan shakes head. “Do you want to fist him or fuck him?”

“Maybe both,” Ava says, smiling. “You can do it, after,” she points out, recognizing their arrangement of equality.

“No!” Raylan yells this time. “Jesus Christ, no.”

Boyd can feel a tremor in his leg, judges that there’s genuine panic showing on his face. Ava sees it too, and pauses.

“Shh,” Boyd says, resting his head against the side of Raylan’s face again. He pets Raylan’s hair with the arm wedged underneath him, which at least distracts Raylan as to what he’s upset about.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” he murmurs to Raylan. “That’s not the point of this.” He makes eye contact with Ava and shakes his head. She shrugs, a little disappointed but understanding. “She just wants to make love to you.”

“With my enormous dick,” Ava clarifies, which is not helpful in calming Raylan down.

“Keep stretching,” Boyd tells her. “We’re not going to hurt him,” he repeats.

The sounds Raylan makes when Ava eventually starts penetrating him suggest that isn’t wholly true, but Boyd is a little distracted holding Raylan’s leg up, watching intently as the giant, shiny black plastic dick slides inside of him without much difficulty. It’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen.

Ava’s thrusts are blunt and hard, and Boyd can feel the force of the movement through Raylan’s body. He grinds against Raylan’s side, while Ava jerks Raylan’s cock some more. Raylan is coated in sweat and shaking, gasping a little in an effort to keep quiet. His hips are twitching and all it takes is Boyd pinching his nipple again while Ava keeps pumping him, and then Raylan is spilling between their bodies. Ava grabs Boyd’s hand, redirecting it to her clit, just below the harness. He fingers her for only seconds, and he can tell by the gasp and the loll of her neck that she’s come.

She wavers in place on the bed, then shoves Raylan’s leg off her shoulder as she roughly withdraws. Raylan moans as the dildo emerges from his battered hole. Boyd rolls out from under him, letting him drop his other leg and curl into himself as best he can with both arms still pinned to the head board.

Boyd is hard as a rock. He goes for Ava who kisses him, but pushes him away, too sensitive right after her orgasm.

“Let me see you fuck him,” she says.

It doesn’t take much to pull Raylan open again, one leg over each of Boyd’s shoulders. His hole is stretched and slick and Boyd slides in without issue. Raylan is too far gone to fake stoicism, grunting and moaning as Boyd slams into him.

Ava starts touching her nipples, then her clit.

“So hot,” she says, sprawled on the other side of the bed. Then, as Boyd’s thrusts are becoming erratic: “Come on his face.”

That pulls Boyd out of his focus.

“Come on his face,” Ava repeats, grabbing his shoulder. “Come in his mouth.”

Clumsily, Boyd obeys. He pulls out of Raylan’s ass and scrambles up to the head board, jerking himself.

Raylan just looks at him, exhausted and overwhelmed.

“Open,” Ava orders, as Boyd’s dick slaps Raylan’s chin.

Raylan blinks, then the glaze vanishes from his eyes. “Wash it,” he grinds out.

Words are having trouble penetrating Boyd’s mind, and he just presses his dick into Raylan’s cheek. Raylan pulls away. “Wash it,” he says, sharply. “It was just in my ass!”

Finally, Boyd understands. He rolls off of the bed and practically runs, bow-legged, to the bathroom. He keeps tugging himself as he splashes soap and warm water on his desperate cock.

When he returns, he climbs right on top of Raylan’s chest, dick level with his mouth. It’s not a great angle, but Boyd is just desperate to come. He only lasts seconds after the image of Raylan willingly opening and taking his cock inside, thrusting shallowly twice down Raylan’s hot throat. He grabs Raylan’s ears and holds him pressed against his pelvis as he comes, barely hearing Raylan’s startled gag and aware of nothing beside his orgasm slamming through him.

Ava pulls him off Raylan, who is gagging and coughing, semen dripping down his chin. Boyd gets an excellent view of her leaning in and licking Raylan’s mouth, then stealing a deep kiss.

She pulls away, a satisfied smile on her face. Raylan continues coughing and gasping. Ava drops next to Boyd, leans in and kisses him, now. Boyd tastes himself and Raylan on her tongue, and it might be the best kiss ever. 

The fight has completely gone out of Raylan, after that. He lets them fuck him once more, hours later, without so much as a hateful comment or Boyd having to wave the stun gun around. Ava mounts him this time, while Boyd drives into him from behind. Watching Ava slam herself down on Raylan’s cock means Boyd doesn’t last long, reciprocating Ava’s movements as he pounds into Raylan as hard as he can.

Afterwards, the bed is a tangle of sheets soaked with sweat, come, and strawberry lube. They leave Raylan handcuffed to the headboard, looking absolutely debauched. Boyd and Ava shower together, then quickly get dressed.

Boyd locates Raylan’s clothes and puts them on the bed next to him. The tranquilizer has long since worn off, but Raylan is passed out cold. Boyd can see the marks that will form bruises from where he and Ava grabbed and held. They’ve each left their fair share of hickies and love bites across his body, too.

“What do we do now?” Ava asks, sounding a little worried.

“Leave,” Boyd says, even though he very much wants to keep Raylan like this.  Forever. “I imagine a resourceful U.S. Marshal can find his way home.”

Ava holds her stun gun defensively while Boyd undoes the handcuffs. Raylan’s arms fall to the bed, a complete dead weight.

“Should we…wash him?” Ava asks.

Raylan stops playing possum and glares at them, silent but promising violence if they try to touch him again.

“As nice as that’d be,” Boyd  sighs.

“What about…” Ava turns to him and mouths the last word: “evidence?”

“He’s not gonna tell,” Boyd says. “We’re gonna forget this ever happened, right, Raylan?”

Raylan’s eyes are open and bleary, but he’s coherent enough to sneer at that statement.

“Or,” Boyd says, as he backs towards the door. “We can remember Ava owes you her fist and I owe you a blow job.”

**** the end****


End file.
